Same In Any Language
by sinnerforhire
Summary: Reposted and now complete! Dean turns into a girl. Then things get really weird. DeanxJo.
1. Chapter 1

They're fighting a werewolf in Ashwaubenon when it happens. Dean goes down and Sam charges in and saves his ass, which happens more often than Dean will ever admit. Sam kneels down and rolls Dean over on his back and -- shit, it's not Dean.

It's a **girl.**

What. The. Fucking. Fuck?!

Sam looks around desperately but sees nothing that would help him understand why his brother is apparently now his sister.

This _can't_ be good.

Sam tries not to panic--well, that's not entirely true. He tries to shift his thoughts more to the lines of _why isn't Dean waking up_ and not _how the fuck did Dean turn into a girl_. He shakes Dean's shoulder and says, "Dean. Hey, wake up."

Dean's eyes flutter and she moans a little and it's a high-pitched, delicate sound that's strangely endearing. "Sam?" she says softly and frowns. "Why do I sound like a girl?" She props herself up on one elbow.

"I can't explain it, but you sort of...turned into a girl."

"What?" Her voice goes so high it's practically a squeak. She struggles to her feet and has to make a quick grab at her now too-big jeans to keep them from falling off. "Sam, what the fuck?" Her voice is pleading.

"I don't know," says Sam. "But we'll fix this. I promise. We'll go to Bobby's and--"

"No!" Dean shouts. "Not Bobby."

"Why not?" asks Sam.

"Just--just trust me on this one. We can't go to Bobby."

Sam sighs. "Fine, what do you suggest?"

Dean gets out his cell phone, dials it and hands it to Sam. A voice he doesn't place right away says, "This better be good."

It finally registers. "Jo?"

"Sam? What the hell do you want?" She doesn't sound happy, and Sam briefly wonders why she hasn't hung up on him already.

"We've got a problem," he says. "You--you kind of have to see it to believe it."

"What makes you think I'd want to help you?" she asks coldly.

"Something happened to Dean. Something bad." He's being deliberately vague, because there's nothing he can say to make this make sense, even to himself.

Jo sighs. "Fine. Where are you?"

"Green Bay."

"You driving up now?"

"Yeah."

She gives him her address and tells him to ring the buzzer twice. Then she hangs up and Sam briefly gives thanks that she talked to him at all. He wouldn't have blamed her if she didn't. She has more than enough reasons to hate his guts.

Sam hands Dean back her phone. "You sure about this?"

Dean shrugs and heads for the car.

xOxOxOx

Jo opens the door. Skipping over the pleasantries, she glances around and asks, "Where's Dean?"

Sam steps aside. Jo's jaw drops and she actually laughs for a second before clapping her hands over her mouth and saying, "Oh my God!"

Dean fidgets and looks down at the floor, honey-blonde hair falling over her eyes. "Shut up," she mumbles, but there's no malice. She's horribly embarrassed.

Jo manages to get herself under control. "Get in here," she says, moving aside to let them in. She goes to the kitchen counter and puts a pot of coffee on. Then she sits down at the kitchen table and says, "How the hell did this happen?"

Sam sits down across from her and says, "We don't know. I didn't see anything."

Dean throws herself down on the couch, crossing her arms over her now-ample chest. She doesn't look at either of them.

"Dean, I'm sorry," says Jo. "I shouldn't have laughed. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," says Dean in a way that clearly indicates it isn't.

"The good news is, I think I know someone who can help you."

Dean's eyes light up. "Really?"

"My friend Autumn is a really powerful witch. If this is a spell, she can probably reverse it. If it's a curse, that might be a little harder."

"God, I hope it's not a fucking curse," says Dean, and the obscenity sounds completely absurd coming from that sweet soprano voice.

Jo gets up from the table. "Let me give her a call." She walks into another room, leaving the siblings alone.

Sam gives Dean a pointed look. "You gonna tell me now?" he asks.

"Tell you what?" says Dean.

"Why we're here? Why we couldn't call Bobby?"

"Do you have any idea what would happen if the wrong people found this out?"

Sam opens his mouth to say something, and then realizes that Dean is right. They have way too many enemies, and it would be very easy to take advantage of the situation, especially in these early hours. Sam sighs. "This is going to be complicated, isn't it?"

"Looks like," says Dean.

Jo emerges from the other room. "She needs to see you," she says. "She can do a ritual to determine what happened. But she's working some other stuff right now, so she can't do it until Thursday."

"That's three days from now! What am I supposed to do till then?"

"Well, first, I'd say you need something to wear. Stand up."

Dean does as she's told and Jo looks her up and down. "I think I have some old stuff of my mom's that might fit you," she says. "Come on."

Dean follows Jo into her room. Sam gets up and gets himself a cup of coffee. He'd rather it were a stiff drink, but he'll take what he can get.

Dean returns in a red v-neck sweater and black corduroy pants and it looks really cute on her. Jo's brushed her hair and braided it to keep it out of her face. She looks like the girls in that Gender in Twentieth-Century History class that Sam had to take sophomore year because the rest of the history electives were full.

Dean glares a warning at Sam. Sam holds up a hand. "Hey, man, I'm not saying anything."

"Better not."

Jo checks her watch. "I've got work in two hours," she says. "You guys want to hit the library or anything?"

"That's a good idea," says Sam. "What time are you off?"

"I'm not off till 12, but the library closes at 8. Luckily, my friend Amy has the extra key, and she lives right above the bar. Stop by later and I'll have it for you."

"Okay," says Sam. "Jo, we really appreciate this. Right, Dean?"

"Yeah," says Dean, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sam wishes Dean would stop taking this thing so badly. Sure, it's annoying, but Dean's alive, and walking and talking; that right there means it's not as bad as it could be. Then again, Sam isn't the one with the breasts, so maybe he lacks perspective.

Jo gives them directions to the library and they head downtown to find it. They bury themselves in the research and don't say a word to each other for three hours. Dean goes off to get something from the printer and Sam catches her checking out the girl with the volunteer badge. Sam has to laugh to himself. That's the Dean he knows, and it's a relief to see that some things don't change.

Dean comes back with a sheaf of papers and sits down with a sigh. "This is hopeless," she whispers.

Sam sits back in his chair. "Yeah, I know."

Dean shakes her head. "We're getting nowhere."

"We need to call Bobby."

"We can't."

"Since when do we not trust Bobby, of all people?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, all right? Just let it go."

Sam sighs. He's been with Dean long enough to know when Dean's not going to cooperate.

"So what do we do now?"

"I say we go see if we can scam free drinks off Jo."

Sam grins. There's the Dean he knows and loves.

"Sounds like a plan."

xOxOxOx

The bar is fairly crowded when they arrive. The crowd is pretty well mixed--old and young, male and female. However, as Sam looks around, he notices that the genders don't seem to be mingling at all. Tables are either all men or all women. He also notices that the women mostly seem to have short hair and a larger-than-statistically-probable number of them are wearing the same baseball jersey. And then it hits him.

This is a gay bar.

Oh, dear God.

Sam looks over at Dean, trying to determine if Dean's come to the same realization that he has. If she has, she's hiding it well.

"Dean," Sam whispers loudly. Dean turns to him, an impatient look on her face.

"What's your problem?"

"Dean, look around. Notice anything weird?"

Dean glances around the bar. "It's a bar, Sam. We've been in worse."

"It's a gay bar."

"What?" There's that squeak again. It's kind of adorable, in a way Sam tries very hard not to acknowledge.

Dean doesn't say anything for a minute, and then a smile slowly spreads across her face. "Yeah, well, I belong here. What's your excuse?"

Sam just shakes his head.

Dean sidles up to the bar and is just tall enough to lean her tits on it, and Sam tells himself that he's not looking at his sister's tits for any particular _reason_. No, it's just because they're a novelty.

Jo catches Dean's eye and smiles at her. "What are you having?" she asks.

"Just because I happen to be a girl doesn't mean I'm going to start drinking like one," says Dean. "Jack and Coke, and make it a double."

"Coming up," Jo replies. She looks to Sam. "Anything for you?"

"Not right now," says Sam. He takes a seat and waits for Jo to serve Dean. Then he catches her arm and hisses, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you what?" asks Jo, the picture of innocence.

"That this is...you know..."

Jo laughs. "Don't get all uptight on me. You're way too enlightened for that, college boy."

Sam frowns and can't think of anything to say that won't get him in more trouble. "I'm just saying, you could have mentioned it."

"What, are you afraid some leather daddy's going to try to make you his butt buddy?" Jo says, and Dean nearly snorts Jack and Coke out her nose.

"No," says Sam, shooting for indignant but not quite pulling it off. "It's not that, it's just..."

Sam is saved by the arrival of a short girl with spiky, Crayola-red hair. She timidly slides up to the bar beside Dean and smiles at her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, Amelia, you can't," says Jo.

"Why not?" asks Amelia.

"Because you're a really sweet girl, and she's an asshole," she replies, gesturing at Dean.

"Hey!" Dean clearly disagrees.

"You know it's true," retorts Jo.

Dean looks like she wants to argue, but changes her mind. "Yeah, I guess."

Amelia looks at Dean appraisingly. "She looks harmless enough," she says, and Dean just grins.

Jo holds up her hands. "I take no responsibility for your broken heart," she informs Amelia. She hands Dean another drink and shoos them away. Dean follows Amelia to a table in the corner. Sam watches them go.

Jo sighs. "That is truly tragic," she says.

"What?"

"Amelia is incredibly sweet, and trusting, and painfully shy. And Dean is...well, you know."

Sam looks at the tiny redhead, who's giggling and playing with something in her pocket. "Yeah, that's not going to go well."

"On the up side, at least you won't be sleeping on the floor tonight," says Jo.

"Well, there's that," says Sam. He smiles halfheartedly at Jo.

"Don't worry about Dean," says Jo.

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

"You always worry about Dean. Trust me, she's perfectly safe with Amelia."

"That's not really what I'm worried about."

"I know. But Sam, it's really none of your business."

Sam sighs. "It's just--I feel like our roles got switched. I feel like I have to protect her."

"That's understandable, but you know she'd kick your ass for that."

"Yeah." Sam looks up and sees a beer on the bar in front of him. He smiles his thanks at Jo.

"Dean can look out for herself. You'll see."

Sam nods and takes a drink. He hears Dean laugh and turns to see her behind him, heading for the bar.

"Hey, Sam, Amelia's taking me back to her place. You can make it back to Jo's on your own, right?"

"Sure. No problem. Have fun."

Dean leans in close. "I love shy girls. They're always the kinkiest," she whispers. She winks at Sam and leaves.

Sam rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. "I did not sign up for this."

xOxOxOx

Thursday arrives, and they head out to the suburbs to Autumn's house. She lives in a small red-brick house at the end of a twisting tree-lined street.

Autumn lets them inside, and they go downstairs into the basement. Sam's not sure what he was expecting, but it's certainly not what he's seeing now. For one thing, it's painted robin's-egg blue with unicorn, dolphin, and faerie posters everywhere. There's a tall slate fountain gurgling quietly in one corner and a rubber-tree plant in another. On the north wall, under the window, is a large altar covered in a shimmering red cloth. There's a round slate table in the middle of the room with two barstools underneath it. On the south wall is an ornate faux-oriental tapestry in various shades of blue and green. It's not as solemn as a sacred space should be. Hell, it looks like a dorm room.

Autumn points Jo and Sam to an overstuffed couch and seats Dean at the slate table. She lifts the tapestry to reveal a door underneath. She returns with a big plastic bin, from which she retrieves several magickal supplies. First is a cast-iron cauldron with a pentacle carved into the side. Next is a concave mirror. She sets both of those in the center of the table. She grabs some jars and cobalt glass bottles and sets those around the edge of the table.

She lifts the red altar cloth to reveal that the altar is actually an old writing desk. She reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out a slender knife, a silver ladle and a wooden spoon. She lays those carefully out on the slate table next to the cauldron. Then she picks up her wand from the top of the altar.

Autumn walks around to the north side of the slate table and holds the wand with the crystal point facing downward. She murmurs an incantation and Sam can see the air shimmer like a heat haze where the magick circle is forming. She closes the circle and sits down across the table from Dean.

She pours what Sam assumes is holy water into the cauldron. She mixes some herbs and other liquids with the wooden spoon. Then she hands the knife to Dean. She doesn't even have to tell Dean what she needs. Dean draws the knife across the palm of her hand and gives the knife back to Autumn. Autumn mixes the blood into the cauldron. She says a short incantation and then ladles a bit of the mixture into the scrying mirror. She waves her wand over the mirror and whispers something. She looks intently into the mirror for about three minutes.

"It's a spell," she says, breaking the silence. "Pretty powerful, too. Simple reversals or banishments won't work. I'll have to design a ritual from scratch. But I won't be able to work it until the next full moon."

"But that's a month from now!" Dean shrieks. "What the hell am I supposed to do until then?"

"I suggest you use the time to gain a little insight," says Autumn. Sam knows that being inside the magick circle is the only thing keeping Dean from kicking her ass.

Autumn dispels the magick circle and Dean shoves her stool away from the table. She looks furious, and Sam can't say he blames her.

The ride back to Jo's is silent and tense. Sam occasionally glances over at Dean in the driver's seat, and she's visibly sulking. Both Sam and Jo are wise enough to leave her alone.

Jo has to work that night. She invites Dean to the bar, but Dean turns her down. Sam's glad, even though it means that he has to put up with her grumpiness. Sam knows they need to talk, but he also knows that Dean is going to bite his head off the second he opens his mouth. So Sam bides his time and messes around with his laptop, which is plugged into Jo's phone line.

It's about an hour later when Dean finally speaks. "You want to go get something to eat?"

"Sure," Sam says. There's a Chinese restaurant within walking distance. They leave the apartment and head down the street.

Sam decides to speak up, since he figures Dean can't kill him in public. "Now what, Dean?"

Dean sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "I have no idea."

"Are we staying here?"

"I think that's the safest thing to do."

"We don't have to."

"I want to," says Dean, and Sam really wants to press her but knows that she'll just shut him down.

Sam shakes his head. "I don't get you."

"What?"

"Why are we even here? Why was Jo the first person you thought of? Why are you so insistent on staying here even though--"

"Sam!" Sam knows he's gone too far, but again, they're in public, so Dean can't hurt him.

"Dean, it doesn't make sense."

"And it won't, to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I have my reasons, and I'm still the big brother despite all appearances to the contrary, so what I say goes."

"That's not good enough, Dean!"

"Well it has to be!" Dean walks faster, leaving Sam behind. Sam hurries to catch up and grabs Dean's arm to stop her. She whirls around, her long hair brushing his arm.

"Get off me," Dean growls, only it comes out sounding petulant rather than aggressive. The sweet feminine voice just isn't threatening.

"Dean, please, talk to me."

"I might be in a chick's body, but I'm not a fucking chick and I'm not having an Oprah moment with you!" Dean yanks her arm away and Sam is knocked a little off-balance.

"Would you stop? You're making a scene," says Sam.

"Are you all right?" comes a voice from behind them. A businesslike man in a trenchcoat and hat looks worriedly at Dean. "Is he bothering you?"

"No, everything's fine," Dean says sweetly, and Sam wonders where the hell she learned to bat her eyelashes like that. "But thanks for your concern."

The man tips his hat and walks away. Dean glares at Sam. "You better watch yourself," she says.

"It's your fault!"

"Good luck convincing a cop of that."

Sam sighs, exasperated. "Are we getting food or what?"

They go to the restaurant and decide to get the food to go. When they get back to the apartment, Dean goes into Jo's bedroom and slams the door. Sam lets her go. It gives him time to figure out his next move.

If he has a next move.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Sam doesn't say anything about Dean spending the night in Jo's room. He's not entirely sure Dean slept with Jo, but he wouldn't put it past her, and he thought he heard some...interesting...sounds last night. However, Dean and Jo keep sneaking these guilty looks at one another and it's starting to drive Sam a little crazy. At the moment they're both in the kitchen. Jo's at the stove making scrambled eggs and Dean is messing with the ancient-looking toaster. Dean hasn't looked Sam in the eye yet, and Sam wonders what Dean thinks he knows—or suspects. He wonders if he should say something, just to clear the air a bit. He thinks about how Dean--old Dean--would have just made some snarky comment and then let the whole thing drop. Sam's not nearly as good at defusing tension as Dean.

Dean sighs and shoves a hank of hair behind her ear. "I think this thing's toast--no pun intended," she says. "God, how old is it, anyway?"

"It's from my mom's first apartment, so...it's older than me," Jo replies.

Dean shakes her head. "It's a trooper, I'll give it that. But it's done for."

"Well, I'm off today, so we can go get a new one."

It's abundantly clear who "we" is, and Sam starts to feel distinctly left out. Jo brings the skillet to the table and serves the eggs, and Dean sits down across from Sam. Jo slides her chair over so she's practically on top of Dean, and if Sam had any doubts that Jo and Dean got up to something last night, they're gone now. He's trying not to worry, because this is the first time in four days that Dean hasn't seemed utterly miserable, but this whole thing is so incredibly fucked up that Sam can't help worrying.

"So, Sam, did you have any plans for today?" asks Jo.

"I was going to go to the library," answers Sam.

"Why? It was a total dead end," says Dean.

"Yeah, well, there's some other stuff I want to look up," says Sam, giving Dean a look that says _drop it_.

"Okay, whatever," says Dean. "Have fun."

They finish eating and Dean offers to help Jo with the dishes. Sam decides to leave before the tableau gets any more nauseating.

When he enters the library, he goes straight to the catalog computers. After finding the title he wants, he heads to the stacks to get it. He sits at one of the tables by the window and starts reading. He's about two-thirds of the way through the book when someone sits down beside him. "So what planet are you from?" asks the female voice.

Sam looks up from _Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus_ to see a dark-haired girl with glasses in the next seat. She smiles, and he finds himself smiling back. "Neptune," he jokes, and she laughs softly. "How about you?"

"Betazed," she replies. "Sorry, geeky _Star Trek_ references are a bad habit."

"I didn't even notice," says Sam. "By the way, I'm Sam."

"Megan," says the girl. "Nice to meet you."

"So, Megan, do you always hit on strangers in libraries?"

Megan grins. "It's the best place to meet fellow geeks," she answers.

"How do you know I'm a geek?"

"My geekdar is never wrong."

He laughs. "Well, you've got me pegged, but I don't know anything about you."

"I'm a Taurus, I like long walks on the beach and I have two cats. Anything else you need to know?"

"No, that's good," he says, putting the book down.

"Don't stop educating yourself on my account," says Megan.

"It was pretty bad," Sam replies. "Want to go somewhere that we can talk?"

"Sure," says Megan. "Let me get my stuff."

Megan collects her backpack and they head across the street to the Starbucks. Megan orders a venti peppermint mocha and Sam has to admire her lack of self-consciousness.

"So, are you from around here?" asks Megan.

"No, I'm just in town visiting a friend," Sam answers.

"Oh," says Megan. She looks disappointed. "How long are you in town?"

"Another three weeks," he says, and she brightens up.

Sam's cell phone rings. It's Dean. "What's up?"

"It's been like five hours. What are you still doing at the library?"

"I'm not at the library," he says, trying not to sound as defensive as he feels.

"Where are you, then?"

"I met someone. We went for coffee."

He hears Dean say something to Jo that he can't make out, but there's definitely giggling, and since when does Dean _giggle_? That's wrong on levels Sam can't contemplate at the moment.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," says Dean. "I just wanted to let you know that Jo and I are gonna be out late, so don't wait

up."

"Where are you going?"

"Secret mission," Dean replies, and Sam can hear the mischief in Dean's voice.

"Stay out of trouble," he warns her, and she laughs.

"Worry about yourself, Romeo," she retorts. "See you later. _Much_ later."

"See ya." Sam puts his phone back in his pocket.

"Who was that?" Megan asks.

"My sister," Sam answers. "I love her, but she can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Yeah, tell me about it," says Megan. "My older brother thinks he's my dad. He's always on my ass about staying out late. I hate it."

"That must be annoying."

"It is. I guess it's nice that he cares, though."

Megan's watch beeps. "Shit, I'm gonna be late for class!" She jumps up and pulls her backpack over one shoulder. "Sorry to run out on you like this, but..."

"No, it's okay. Go."

Megan leaves the building and ducks into an alleyway. She walks a block and turns into an even smaller alley. There's a vagrant sitting there. Megan puts her backpack down and pulls something out of it. She goes over to the vagrant.

"Spare some change?" he croaks.

"Not today," she says, and slices his throat open with her blade. She catches the blood in the ornate pewter chalice. She stirs it once and murmurs an incantation.

"Yes, they're here...it's just as you said. I'll be prepared; I have plenty of time. Yes...yes, father."

xOxOxOx

Sam falls asleep before Jo and Dean get home, but they don't make the stealthiest of entrances. Sam wakes up to see Dean leaning against the kitchen counter holding a huge wad of cash. She's wearing a low-cut purple blouse and a black miniskirt that's about an inch and a half shy of being utterly obscene. She's also wearing knee-high black heeled boots and where the fuck did she learn to _walk_ in those?

"God, what'd you do, rob a bank?" Sam mutters, still half-asleep.

Dean grins. "Nope, just some good old-fashioned hustling."

"Oh my God, you should have seen the guy," says Jo loudly, and it's clear that she's been drinking. "He had to be about 300 pounds, and his face turned _purple_ when he realized he'd been hustled. I thought he was gonna keel over. It was great."

"You got out clean though, right?"

"Oh yeah," says Jo, grinning. "He looked like he wanted to start something, but this old biker guy--God, he had to be like 70 years old--all he had to do was look at the guy and he just handed over the money and sat in the corner pouting."

"Good," says Sam, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Next time, I go with you. That's not a request."

"Yes, _Dad,_" Dean retorts, and Sam swears, it's like she wants him to throttle her.

"Dean--"

"I know, I know," she says.

"You have no idea what I was going to say!"

"No, but I can guess. I can take care of myself, Sam, so lay off."

Sam sighs. He's way too tired for this. "Fine. Do whatever you want, just don't do it dressed like that."

Dean pouts, and that really should not be as cute as it actually is. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"Nothing, if you're a prostitute."

Dean rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on." She turns on her heel and flounces over to the door to Jo's room, and—Sam doesn't even let himself finish that thought. He rubs his eyes with his fists and tries to convince himself he's not losing his mind.

Jo slips in behind Dean and Dean shuts the door loudly. Sam sighs and goes back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Sam grabs Dean as soon as she leaves Jo's room and drags her into the hall. "We need to talk," he says.

"What's your problem?"

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but I think you should stop sleeping with Jo."

"You're right, it's none of your fucking business." Dean tries to push past Sam, but Sam stops her.

"I just think it's a really bad idea," says Sam, moving to block the door.

"I don't care what you think!"

"Yeah, I get that. But Jo really likes you, and you're gonna hurt her."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are, because she's gonna fall for you if you keep this up."

Dean rolls her eyes. "Get real."

"Dean, it's obvious. She's always had a thing for you."

"Yeah, so?"

Sam sighs. "I just think you should make it clear to her that you're, you know, still you."

"Still an asshole, you mean."

"You said it, not me."

Dean runs a hand through her hair. "This whole thing is too fucked up for words."

"Yeah, and you're making it worse," says Sam.

"You know what really sucks, though?" asks Dean.

"What?"

"I'm actually getting kind of okay with it."

Sam looks at Dean exactly the way he did when this all started. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not saying I'd want to live the rest of my life like this, but for right now, it's kind of…I don't know…interesting."

"Okay, have you completely lost your mind?"

Dean grins. "I'd say you should try it sometime, but it's not like anything would change for you."

"Oh, very funny."

Dean pushes past Sam and he lets her. She disappears inside the apartment. Sam watches the door shut in his face and tries to figure out just what the hell to do now.

He's still standing there five minutes later when the door opens again. It's Jo. "Get in here."

Sam walks in the apartment. Dean is talking on Jo's phone. "You're sure about this?"

"What's going on?" Sam asks Jo.

"It's Autumn. She says Dean's in danger. She wants to put a protection spell on her."

"What kind of danger?"

"She doesn't know. But she thinks someone's looking for you two."

Dean hands Jo back her phone. "She wants us there in an hour."

xOxOxOx

Jo has to work, so Sam and Dean go to Autumn's house without her. Autumn ushers them into the basement. She's got her cauldron set up on the slate table with a black candle mounted inside it. She gestures for Dean to sit down on the barstool. Sam settles down on the couch. Autumn picks up her wand and casts the magick circle. However, instead of the shimmer, the air seems to freeze like solid ice. Autumn sits down and lights the black candle. She recites the incantation in a strong voice. She pours liquid from a cobalt glass bottle into the cauldron. Vapor rises from the cauldron in curling wisps. The room feels incrementally chillier. Sam looks over at Dean, who looks vaguely uncomfortable. Something is not right, but Sam can't really get a handle on what it is. He tells himself he worries too much and tries to relax.

Autumn finishes chanting and snuffs out the candle. She releases the magick circle and Dean stands up. Dean sways a bit and puts a hand on the table to steady herself.

Sam jumps up. "Are you okay?"

Dean shakes her head like she's trying to shake something off. "Yeah, it's nothing. Just stood up too fast."

Sam frowns but doesn't say anything. Something is definitely not right.

When they leave the house, Dean hands the keys to Sam. Sam stops and stares at her in disbelief. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Don't feel like driving," Dean says softly. Sam looks at her critically. Now that they're outside in the sunlight, Sam can see that Dean's looking a bit pale.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_," she growls, and that's a good sign, at least.

Sam gets in the driver's seat and watches Dean sit down opposite him. She's just a hair too slow, and Sam's definitely starting to worry now.

By the time they arrive at Jo's apartment, Dean is as white as any of the ghosts they've encountered. Sam pulls the key out of the ignition and looks at her in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Dean says. She tries to get out of the car, but her knees buckle and she falls back against the seat. Sam rushes over and gently pulls her to a standing position. She sways and clutches his arm.

"Can you walk?" Sam asks.

Dean glares at him. She won't lie to him, so she says nothing. Sam makes a quick decision. He scoops her up in his arms.

"What the fuck?" she shrieks and tries to wiggle free. She's awfully weak, though, and Sam's holding on tight, so she doesn't get anywhere.

"Dean," he says in a warning tone. She stops struggling, but she doesn't look happy about it.

He carries her into the bedroom and lays her carefully on the bed. She's giving him the meanest look she can muster, but Sam's not paying attention to that. He's looking at her dreadfully pale complexion and the dark shadows under her eyes. He presses his palm to her forehead. It's clammy and much too warm. He frowns. "You're running a fever. How do you feel?"

She won't meet his eyes, and Sam's not surprised that she's avoiding the question. "Dean, come on. Talk to me."

She sighs. "I'm dizzy, my head hurts, my stomach hurts, and I'm freezing," she says. "Happy now?"

Sam covers her with the comforter, which earns him another annoyed glare. Sam realizes that it's going to be a long day.

"You should get some rest," Sam says, backing away from the bed. "I'll leave you alone." Dean settles into the pillows and lets her eyes fall closed. Sam watches her breathe for a few minutes, and when he's satisfied that she's asleep he goes out to the living room and dials his phone. He hopes Jo doesn't have to turn her phone off at work.

He's in luck—she answers. "Hey, what's up?"

"Dean's sick," he tells her. "And I think Autumn might be responsible."

"What do you mean?"

"It started as soon as Autumn finished the ritual."

"That's crazy. Autumn would never hurt anyone."

"Something was…off. I can't explain it, but I felt it."

"You're making a pretty serious accusation," Jo says coldly.

"I know." Sam swallows hard. "But I'm telling you, Dean started getting sick the second Autumn was done."

Jo doesn't say anything for a minute. He hears her sigh, and she says, "Let me talk to Autumn. Get her side of the story."

"If you insist."

"How's Dean?" Jo's voice is softer.

"She's sleeping now. She has a fever, and she looks pretty bad."

"I can come home if you need me," says Jo.

"I think we're okay for now, but I'll call you if we need you," he promises.

"Okay, then I'll talk to you later."

He disconnects the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. He starts messing around with the laptop to distract himself. It's about twenty minutes later that he hears the scream.

He runs into the bedroom and sees immediately what the problem is. Dean is sitting up, shirt pulled up to her chest, and there's a symbol on her stomach. It's nothing he recognizes offhand, but it looks like a sigil of some kind. The lines are a bright flaming red and if it's half as painful as it looks, it must be agonizing.

Dean looks up at him with frightened eyes, and he can see her trembling. "What the fuck is that?" she asks in a shaky voice.

He shakes his head slowly. "I have no idea, but it can't be good."

"Gee, ya think?" There's a hint of her usual fire, and that's encouraging.

"Does it hurt?"

She gives him a _God, could you __**be**__ stupider_ look. "No, it feels great."

"What does it feel like?"

"Like being stabbed with a red-hot knife."

"That good, huh?" He's not panicking. His heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweating, but he's not panicking. Yet.

She sinks back against the headboard with a groan. Sam sits down beside her and puts his hand on her forehead. He feels the heat before his hand touches skin. He needs a thermometer to be sure, but he's guessing at least 102.5. Shit.

He rises from the bed. "I'm gonna get the first-aid kit from the car."

"I'll be here." She closes her eyes.

He makes the trip as fast as he can, when he gets back, he digs out the thermometer and hands it to Dean. She doesn't even give him a dirty look, and that's when he gets really scared. If Dean's not even up for giving him a hard time, she's really fucking sick.

The thermometer beeps and Dean hands it to Sam. His guess was pretty accurate—it reads 102.9. He sets the thermometer on the nightstand, knowing he'll need it later. He retrieves the big bottle of ibuprofen and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When he returns, he sees Dean fumbling with the bottle, unable to get it open. He takes it from her without comment.

She scrubs a hand over her eyes. "God, I can't even fucking see straight," she grumbles.

Sam hands her two pills and the glass of water and tries not to notice the fine tremors in her hands when she accepts them. He helps her lie back down and moves to cover her with the blanket, but she waves him off. "Too hot," she murmurs.

He goes into the bathroom and wets a washcloth with cold water. He returns to Dean's side and lays the cloth across her forehead. She sighs. Her eyes flutter closed; a minute later she's asleep.

Sam sits down on the bed beside her and tries to figure out what to do next. He needs to know what the hell that symbol is, and how to remove it. He needs help. He needs an expert.

He needs to call Bobby.

He looks down at Dean. She's going to be incredibly pissed. However, she's just going to have to deal with it, because he doesn't feel he has any other options. He gets up and walks out to the living room. He sits down on the couch and dials his phone.

He's relieved to hear Bobby's gruff voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby, it's Sam."

"Good to hear from you. How are you doing?"

"Not so great," Sam answers. "We ran into a little trouble with that werewolf in Green Bay."

"What kinda trouble?"

Sam sighs. He suddenly understands Dean's objections. "Long story short, Dean's now a girl, but we've got bigger problems than that."

"Dean's a _girl_, and you have bigger problems?"

"Right now, yes. We were working with this witch that our friend hooked us up with, and she did a spell and now Dean's really sick. She's got this symbol on her stomach—I don't recognize it, but it looks like a sigil of some kind. She's running a fever, and she can barely lift her head up without help."

Bobby doesn't say anything for a minute. Finally he speaks. "Spells aren't really my area of expertise. What you're describing, though...it doesn't sound like witchcraft. It sounds like serious black magic."

Sam frowns. "So what can I do about it?"

"Ride it out as best you can, I guess. If it gets too bad, haul Dean's ass to the hospital and call me."

Sam nods. "Okay. Thanks." He hangs up.

He steps back inside the bedroom. Dean's still sleeping, but she must have been restless, because the cloth is lying on the pillow next to her. He picks it up and takes it into the bathroom. When he comes back, he finds her looking around with glassy, unfocused eyes.

He sits down beside her. "Hey, you okay?" he asks quietly.

"Mmmmm." She reaches up to brush a damp tendril of hair off her face, and she's moving so slowly you'd think her arm was filled with lead. She looks at him blankly, no recognition in her eyes.

"Dean? Hey, you with me?" He squeezes her arm lightly, just trying to get a reaction out of her, and he frowns at the unnatural heat of her skin.

"Lemme alone," she mutters. She tries to pull her arm away, but she's too weak. Sam lets go of her arm and reaches up to feel her forehead. The fever hasn't abated at all, even with the medicine, and he can't give her another dose for two more hours. He sits back and sighs. He's not sure there's anything he can do, because this is supernatural, not natural, and he's completely out of his league.

Dean finally meets his eyes. "Sammy?"

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Pretty bad," she admits softly.

Sam takes a deep breath. "Look, I know you're not going to like this, but I called Bobby."

"You didn't." She tries to sit up, but Sam stops her with a hand on her chest. She lets her head fall back on the pillow, and she's breathing hard from just that minuscule effort. Sam slides his hand to rest over her heart and feels it pounding beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry, but I had no choice. " Sam sits back. "This is bad, Dean. You—fuck, you could be dying for all we know."

"'M not gonna die." She grins weakly. "Too stubborn."

Sam smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it." He stands up. "Get some rest. I'll check on you later."

"Okay," she whispers. Her eyes close, and it's barely a minute before her breathing lengthens and deepens in sleep.

He goes out to the living room and messes around with the laptop for a bit, but he can't really focus on anything. Worrying is taking up all of his mental energy. He finds himself standing in the doorway of the bedroom, just watching her sleep. She looks peaceful, but that's not going to last for long. With the dark circles under her eyes and the red splotches on her cheeks, she looks too fragile, like one of Rose Thompson's porcelain dolls.

It's a couple more minutes before he hears her breath hitch. She tosses her head from side to side. He hears a weak moan and then, "No, please…no…"

He quickly crosses the room to the bed and gives her shoulder a sharp nudge. She flinches but doesn't wake. He tries again. Her eyes fly open and she shrieks and tries to bat his arm away.

"Dean! Hey!" He pins down her flailing arms. She struggles against his grip. "Stop, it's me."

"No!" She's getting desperate now, fighting back with the minimal strength she possesses. He presses down on her, feeling guilty.

"Dean, stop it!" He squeezes her wrists, holding them tight. She's clearly reaching the end of her reserve of energy and he can easily wait her out, but he needs to break her out of the nightmare and he's not sure how to do that.

Finally, she slumps down onto the pillow, breathing like she's just run a mile uphill. He lets go of her wrists and smooths her hair. "You okay?"

She glances frantically around the room. She meets Sam's eyes and calms a bit. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He puts his hand to her forehead. It's bone-dry and even hotter than before. He frowns and reaches for the thermometer.

She notices and shrinks back into the pillow. "No, don't," she murmurs.

"I have to. Open up."

She glares at him but opens her mouth anyway and he slides the thermometer in. When it beeps, he takes it out and looks at it. He's not thrilled with the reading: 103.5.

"What's the verdict?" she asks.

"Not good," he replies. He picks up the bottle of ibuprofen and shakes three capsules into his hand. It's about a half-hour too early, but he figures that's okay. It's not like the medicine is doing what it's supposed to, anyway. He gives her the pills and the glass of water. She puts the pills in her mouth but is too weak to lift the glass of water to her lips. He does it for her, fighting down the fear and panic that threatens to overwhelm him. If she can't even lift a half-full glass of water…he doesn't want to finish that sentence. Suffice it to say, it's pretty fucking bad.

Dean looks up at him. "What's wrong?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I'm worried about you," he tells her.

"You worry too much." She tries to push herself to a sitting position, but her arms can't support her weight and she flops back on the pillow, wincing. She groans and squeezes her eyes shut.

"You okay?" asks Sam quietly.

She opens her eyes. "This sucks."

"Yeah, I know."

"I hate this."

Sam nods. "Me too."

She yawns. Sam stands up. "I'll let you get back to sleep."

He moves to leave, but she grabs his hand. "Don't leave," she murmurs.

He sits back down. "Okay."

Her eyes slip shut, and she's asleep almost instantly. He sits quietly, watching her chest rise and fall. She's completely still otherwise, and there's something about that that makes him uneasy.

It's about an hour later that her eyes flutter open and she lets out a strangled moan. Sam sits at attention. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." She's gasping for breath and her whole body is tense.

"Where does it hurt?" Sam asks.

"Everywhere," she replies. "Like being...torn apart." She arches her back slightly, trying to ride out the pain.

Sam's just getting up when he hears the door open. He spins around. It's Jo.

Before he can say anything, her eyes flip to black. "Howdy, Sam."

Suddenly it clicks. "What the hell did you do to her?" he growls.

"What, I don't even get a hello? Your daddy raised you better than that."

Sam's eyes narrow. "This is really not the time. Tell me what you did."

"It doesn't matter. You're out of time." She grins, and it sends a chill down Sam's spine. "She's gonna die, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"Maybe not, but there's something _you_ can do about it."

"And I'm going to help you why?"

"Because I'll send you straight back to hell if you don't."

"If I thought you could back that up, I might be scared."

Sam searches his memory. "_Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino..._"

She flinches. "Okay, fine, we can deal."

"You make Dean better, and I let you go."

"Not good enough," she snaps.

"What do you want?"

"I want this body."

"That's not my call to make," says Sam.

"No, I guess it isn't," she purrs. She runs a hand down her torso. "I like this one. Boobs could be bigger, but other than that..."

"Can we get back to business?" Sam interrupts her.

She sighs. "Fine." She turns to Dean and says a short incantation in what Sam suspects is Aramaic. Sam turns to look, and Dean's sitting up, normal color returned to her complexion. She seems to be cured. Sam lets out a sigh of relief.

"So, we have a deal, Sam?"

Sam turns back to her. "Yeah. Take Jo's body and go."

"Sam!" Dean shouts. Sam ignores her.

"Nice doing business with you." She turns to leave. "See ya around."

Sam lunges for Dean's duffel and grabs the journal. He darts into the next room and starts the exorcism ritual.

Her eyes flash. "You son of a bitch."

He doesn't stop. He knows better by now. _I should really memorize this _flits through the back of his mind as he reads the Latin.

She drops to her knees. He keeps reading until he sees the jet of black smoke fly out of Jo's mouth and disappear into the heating vent.

Jo looks up at him. "Thanks," she gasps.

He extends a hand to help her up. "No problem."

"Good job, man," says Dean from behind him. He turns to see her standing in the doorway. "You really should memorize that."

He smiles. "Yeah, I was just thinking that."

"That thing...that was what was in you when you attacked me?" asks Jo shakily.

"Yeah," answers Sam.

"That bitch is nothing but trouble," Dean adds. "You okay, Jo?"

"I'm fine," Jo replies, but her face doesn't tell the same story. "Glad it's over."

Sam turns to face Dean. "You feeling okay?"

"Pretty much." She leans against the door frame. "Still kinda tired."

"You look a lot better." Sam takes a deep breath. "Fuck, Dean, I thought you were dying."

Her eyes darken. "Yeah, I kinda thought that too."

They're all silent for a minute. Then Dean straightens up and says, "I think I'm gonna hit the sack for awhile." She looks at Jo, who nods slightly and walks past Sam and into the bedroom without a word. Dean gives Sam a weak smile and closes the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean flops down on the bed. "God, I'm really starting to hate this bed," she grumbles.

Jo sits cautiously beside her. "You sure you're okay?"

Dean pushes herself up on one elbow. "I'm just a little tired. It's nothing." She looks up at Jo. "What about you? Are you okay?"

Jo takes a shaky breath. "That was really scary," she says softly. "I could hear my voice, feel my body moving, but I wasn't doing it. I couldn't control it."

Dean sits up. "I'm sorry," she says.

"For what? You had nothing to do with it."

Dean shakes her head. "It's just...no matter what we do, we're always one step behind her. We can't stop her. She keeps getting the drop on us."

"That's not your fault." Jo puts one arm around Dean's shoulders. "You hear me? I'm not blaming you. No one is."

Dean looks down at the mattress. She doesn't say anything.

Jo sighs. "You can be such a pain in the ass sometimes." She lays down, pulling Dean down with her. Dean rests her head on Jo's shoulder. She's still pretty tired, but she doesn't want to sleep just yet. She lays there, just listening to Jo breathe, grateful that they're both safe and sound.

They stay like that for a while, just cuddling--although if pressed, Dean would swiftly and unequivocally deny doing any such thing. Dean tries to keep herself from obsessing about the what-ifs, because she and Jo are fine and Meg is back in hell, at least for the moment.

The problem is that she starts obsessing about other things instead. Dean's not really given to deep thinking, let alone obsessing, in normal times, but these aren't exactly normal times, are they?

See, at first, Dean was pretty pissed about the whole being-a-girl thing. It's not that Dean doesn't like girls--fuck, after guns they're her favorite thing ever--but Dean never wanted to _be_ one. For one thing, girls are crazy. They always get upset over the dumbest little things and very rarely do they make sensible decisions. Guys mostly think with their dicks, but girls think with their hearts and that to Dean is actually more dangerous. Sure, the former tends to lead to succubus attacks, but the latter leads to shit like _marriage_ and really, when it comes down to it, Dean will take the succubus any day of the week. Girls care about shit that Dean can't be bothered with and don't care about the things that really matter, like the proper method of consecrating iron rounds.

However, Dean keeps catching herself thinking and doing things that the real Dean never would. For one thing, she's slept with the same girl twice, and that's not something old Dean got to do very often. For another thing, she's currently cuddling (and God she hates that word) with the girl in question. She kind of wants to give herself a pass--after all, one of them was possessed and the other was deathly ill just an hour ago, and that'll fuck anybody up--but she won't, because she can't silence the little voice in her head that's telling her that if she doesn't fix this soon, she might start losing her edge and she can't afford that. She knows she's getting soft and that worries her. Thing is, she really kind of likes this whole white-picket-fence thing. It's nice to come back to a real home instead of a motel, and it's even nicer to come home to someone who isn't her brother (not that she doesn't love Sam, but you know what they say about familiarity). All in all, it's a nice setup, but it isn't _Dean. _

She knows what she needs to do. However, it involves leaving, and she's sure Jo's not going to be a fan of that plan. She thinks--well, actually, she _fears_--that Jo's in love with her. She doesn't love Jo, but she cares about her a lot and she thinks she could love her given a little more time. Which means she's really fucked, because when she inevitably hurts Jo it's going to hurt her too.

Dean sighs and sits up. "I'll be back," she tells Jo. But it doesn't matter, because Jo is asleep. Dean's a little too relieved at that.

Dean goes out to the living room. Sam's sitting on the couch with the journal open in his lap, but he's actually staring out the window, totally spaced out. Dean steps behind the couch and smacks Sam in the back of the head.

Sam jumps. "Jesus!"

Dean laughs and sits down beside him. "That's what you get for not paying attention."

Sam looks at her critically. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Quit asking."

"How's Jo?"

"Asleep. She'll be okay."

Sam nods. "So what's up?"

"I've been thinking."

"That's a first."

"Shut up."

Sam grins. "Don't set me up, then."

Dean glares at him, then goes on. "I think we should go back to Green Bay."

"Why?"

"I want to find out who did this so I can get changed back."

Sam looks confused. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Dean shrugs noncommittally. "I'm done fucking around. It's time to get back to business."

"What about Jo?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

"That's not what I meant."

"It's her own fault," says Dean, picking at the seam of the couch cushion. "This was never gonna be a permanent thing. She should've known that."

Sam shakes his head. "I'm not sure whether to be reassured or appalled that you still don't know how to treat a woman."

"Lay off, all right? It's none of your business anyway."

Sam doesn't say anything for a moment. When he does speak, it's not what Dean expects. "So what's the plan now?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do we find out who cast the spell on you?"

Dean relaxes a bit. This she can handle. "That werewolf chick--her name was Amy, right?"

"Yeah, Amy Barshinger."

Sam fires up the laptop. It takes him a few minutes to find what he's looking for. "Amy was a student at Lakeland College in Sheboygan. She was active in the Psychology Club and the Inner Circle."

"The Inner what?"

"The Inner Circle. It looks like a new age prayer group," Sam replies. "It's another student club."

"Ugh, I hate that new age bullshit."

"So when did you want to leave?" Sam asks.

"Tomorrow morning," replies Dean. "The sooner the better."

Sam shakes his head. "I really don't get you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, this morning you were enjoying yourself. Now suddenly you can't wait to get turned back. What did I miss?"

Dean looks away. "Nothing," she mumbles.

"You're scared."

Dean glares at Sam. "Bullshit."

"You are. You're scared because Jo got possessed and you couldn't protect her, just like you couldn't protect me. You don't want her to get hurt and you figure she's better off without you."

"Where the fuck do you come up with this stuff?" Dean tries not to let on that Sam has hit the nail on the head. It's annoying that Sam knows Dean better than Dean knows herself.

Sam sits back and crosses his arms, grinning smugly. "Face it. I can see right through you."

"You can't see shit," Dean retorts weakly.

"What'd I miss?" The voice comes from behind them. Dean turns to see Jo standing in the doorway.

Dean stands up and gestures for Jo to go back in the bedroom. "Let's talk about it in private."

Jo's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. She disappears inside the bedroom. Dean follows her.

Sam watches Dean walk away. It's strange--he thinks he's actually going to miss girl-Dean. He's gotten almost used to her. For one thing, she's completely adorable with her honey-blonde hair and long-lashed green eyes. Plus, she has a damn fine rack, and Sam knows he's not supposed to notice that, but he is a guy, after all, and not only that, he's a guy who hasn't gotten laid in a quite a long time. He knows that it's creepy and weird to think his sister is attractive, but their whole lives are creepy and weird. Considering that he regularly desecrates graves, purchases things with fraudulent credit cards, and blasts ghosts full of rock salt, lusting after his sister seems mild. Besides, he wouldn't ever do anything about it. That's one line he's confident he'll never cross.

Dean is different as a girl. Some of the differences are obvious, but others are more subtle. Girl-Dean doesn't posture the way regular-Dean does. She's not as guarded. Sam doesn't often get to see past Dean's barriers. When he does, it's usually because Dean is (a) badly hurt or (b) completely plastered. Even then, Dean is usually full of snark and superficial observations. Girl-Dean doesn't seem as shallow. She's even a little bit thoughtful. He wonders if this experience will change Dean. It would be kind of nice if it did. Sam definitely wouldn't mind if Dean started thinking a little more with his upstairs brain.

While Dean is talking to Jo, he does a little more research on Amy Barshinger. He finds her Livejournal through a link on Facebook. She seems like a nice girl. She blogs about silly romance novels and independent film. She's obviously intelligent, which fits with what Sam read in the Lakeland _Mirror_.

He's reading Amy's New Year's resolutions when an icon catches his eye. It's a triple crescent. The screen name attached is "Nimuestears". It's a promising lead.

The impression he gets from Nimuestears' Livejournal is that she's way too smart for her own good. Her self-designed rituals include some pretty obscure arcane elements that no amateur should be messing around with. She's obviously gotten her hands on some kind of old-school grimoire or book of shadows.

After digging around some more, Sam lucks out and finds a picture of Nimuestears. He goes back to Amy's Facebook and easily finds her among Amy's friends. Her name is Carlie Hillenbrand and she's a junior at Lakeland, just like Amy. She's also a member of the Inner Circle. He's 99 percent sure she's the caster they're looking for. It's definitely going to be a job for Dean.

Sam shuts the laptop and goes into the kitchen. He gets a soda out of the fridge and makes himself a sandwich. He figures he won't see Dean for awhile. He hasn't heard any shouting; that's a good sign.

Then again, it's still early.

xOxOxOx

Dean closes the door behind her and turns around. Jo is sitting on the bed. She looks expectantly at Dean. "What's going on?"

Dean takes a deep breath. "We need to talk." She perches on the edge of Jo's dresser.

Jo narrows her eyes. "Nothing good has ever come out of that sentence."

"I wish I could tell you differently," says Dean. "But yeah, that's pretty much the case." She twists a lock of hair around her finger. "Enough pussying around. Jo, we're leaving. Tomorrow."

Jo looks down at the mattress. "So that's it, huh?" she says softly.

Dean sits down beside her. "I'm really sorry," she says. "But this--" she gestures at her body, "--isn't me. You know that. I can't stay like this. It's not right. I have to fix this. Now."

"Why now? Why not just wait for the full moon? It's only two weeks from now."

Dean sighs. "It's hard to explain. Just trust me when I say that this will be better for both of us."

"Not us. You." Jo looks up at Dean, and her eyes are brimming with tears. "You only care about yourself."

"That's not true," says Dean. "I really didn't want to hurt you. I care about you a lot." She puts her arm around Jo's shoulders, but Jo shoves her away and stands up.

"I should have known," says Jo, brushing a tear from her cheek. "I thought you changed. I thought things would be different. I never should have let myself get attached to you."

Dean picks at the mattress. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could stay. I wish I could just forget about everything else and be with you. But I have a responsibility. I have to get back out there."

"Don't even try to pull that 'noble hunter' bullshit on me. You think I haven't heard that before? It's crap, Dean. You want to leave because that's what you do. God forbid you let yourself be vulnerable. Can't have that, now, can we?"

"Jo--" Dean stands up and steps forward, but Jo leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Get away from me! Quit trying to make me feel better, because you can't. You really hurt me."

"I know," Dean says quietly.

Jo sniffles and wipes her eyes. A moment later, she's full-on sobbing. Dean just sits on the bed and watches helplessly as Jo covers her face with her hands and cries.

It takes Jo a couple minutes to pull herself together. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and her cheeks are flushed bright pink. Her breathing is ragged and deep, but she's not actively crying, so that's an improvement. Jo looks at Dean. "Can you give me a minute alone?"

Dean gets up. "Sure," she says. She opens the door and closes it softly behind her.

Dean finds Sam in the kitchen. She sits down at the kitchen table. "Jo's really upset," she says.

"Are you surprised?" asks Sam gently.

Dean sighs. "No." She pushes a hank of hair behind her ear. "You were right. About everything." She looks up at him. "I fucking hate that."

Sam grins. "You ought to be used to it by now," he jokes.

"Shut up," replies Dean, but there's no zip to it.

"You okay?" asks Sam.

"I'm fine," she says immediately, but Sam's not convinced.

"You want to talk about it?"

Dean glares at him but doesn't say anything. Sam sits down next to her. "You'll feel better if you talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about," murmurs Dean. "It's done."

"Do you think you did the right thing?"

"Of course," replies Dean, but she doesn't sound confident.

"You still want to leave in the morning?"

"I want to leave right now," answers Dean, sounding a bit more like herself.

"Well, I guess we could," says Sam. "But are you sure that won't make things worse?"

"Can't get much worse," says Dean, looking down at the table and letting her hair fall over her eyes.

Sam rises from the table. "I'll get my stuff."

Dean knocks on the bedroom door. Jo opens it slowly. She still looks awful.

"I need to get my stuff," Dean says softly.

"You're leaving now?"

"Think that's best."

Jo sighs and steps aside to let Dean into the room. "I freaked you out, didn't I?"

"No," answers Dean, but she doesn't make eye contact with Jo when she says it.

"Why else would you be running out the door?"

"I thought you were mad at me."

"I am, but that doesn't mean I want you out of here."

Dean sighs. "I know this will come as a shock to you, but you're not the only one hurting here. I need some time too. And if I stay here, I'll probably do something I'll regret."

"Like change your mind."

"Something like that."

Jo steps forward and pulls Dean into a tight embrace. Dean is tense at first, but eventually she lets herself relax into the touch. They stay like that for a long moment, enjoying each other. Jo smells like lavender and vanilla. It's nice.

Jo pulls away first. She sniffles, and her eyes are bright with tears. "I'll miss you," she says softly.

"I'll miss you too," says Dean.

"Call me?"

"I will," Dean promises, and she means it, at least at this moment.

Jo gives her a weak half-smile and sits down on the bed. Dean hefts her duffel and leaves the room.

Sam is standing at the front door with his stuff. "You ready?" he asks.

Dean nods. "Sure."

They leave the apartment. Dean gives Sam the keys, and Sam accepts them without a word. Dean looks up at Jo's window as the Impala pulls away from the curb, but she doesn't see her. She's a little sad about that.

Sam turns the radio on. Dean slouches down in the passenger seat and tries not to think.


	5. Chapter 5

The Internet is a wonderful thing. Thanks to Facebook, they know that Carlie is leading her meditation/prayer group that afternoon at four in the second floor lounge of the student union. Dean grumbles about _granola girls_ and _that new age Yanni bullshit_, but she also puts on a gauzy peasant top and clumsily braids her hair. It's so adorable that Sam snaps a picture with his camera phone when she's not paying attention.

They hang out in the student union, just watching people go by. A group of girls from a dance class walk by, still wearing their skintight leotards, and Sam jabs Dean with his elbow to make her stop staring.

"I should have gone to college," she mutters. Sam rolls his eyes.

Four o'clock rolls around, and Dean makes her way to the second floor lounge. When she walks in, she sees Carlie in the corner setting up a CD player. There are a few other girls sitting on chairs and couches, and none of them are what Dean would consider attractive. Two of them look like they haven't brushed their hair in a week, one of them has huge magnifying glasses and three others are morbidly obese. Dean starts to worry that being pretty will blow her cover.

Convex Lens Girl gets up and moves to the corner to talk to Carlie. Carlie nods and starts towards Dean.

"I haven't seen you before," says Carlie.

"I'm here on an overnight," Dean lies.

"Where's your tour guide?"

"She's not really into this stuff."

"She shouldn't have left you on your own."

"I'm fine," says Dean, trying not to sound annoyed.

"What's your name?" asks Carlie.

"Dena."

Carlie smiles. "I'm Carlie. I'm the group leader. I'm sorry for being so rude before. All are welcome here."

"Okay," says Dean.

"We'll be starting in a few minutes," says Carlie. She walks around the room, greeting the other girls.

Finally, Carlie closes the door to the room and stands in front of it. "Welcome, sisters," she says. "Today we'll be continuing our exploration of guided visualization." She walks over to the CD player and turns it on. "Let's all close our eyes and relax." She turns out the lights. Dean glances around once before closing her eyes.

The CD is pretty fruity. A female voice blathers on about colors and chakras and healing energy and it's almost more than Dean can bear. Just when she thinks she won't be able to take any more, the music stops. She opens her eyes and looks around. The other girls all look placid and refreshed. Maybe there's something to this new age shit after all.

Nah.

Carlie turns on the lights and makes a beeline for Dean. "What did you think?" she asks.

"I liked it," Dean lies. "It was...very stimulating."

Carlie smiles and nods. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." She looks at her watch. "We ran a little over. Are you meeting your tour guide?"

"She told me to just meet her back at the dorm later. She didn't say when I had to be back."

"Well, then, do you want to get dinner?"

"That would be great," says Dean. She smiles at Carlie. Carlie beams.

The dining hall is on the floor above them. Carlie goes right for the salad bar. Dean gets two pieces of pizza and frozen yogurt.

They sit down at a booth in the back. Carlie looks at Dean's tray enviously. Dean pretends not to notice.

"So, Dena, where are you from?"

"Duluth," she answers. Might as well stick with what she knows.

"So you're used to these winters. I'm from Tennessee. I've never seen so much snow in my life."

Dean shrugs. "You get used to it."

They eat in silence for a bit. Dean decides to take the initiative. "So, how did you get into the whole meditation thing?"

"It's part of the Wiccan religion," answers Carlie. "All the women in my family are witches. I was raised in the tradition."

"So you're a real witch?" Dean tries to sound clueless.

Carlie laughs. "It's not like in the movies. There are no talking animals or ritual sacrifices. Most of what you think of as witchcraft is made up."

"But is there really such a thing as magick?"

"Of course," replies Carlie. "But it's a force of nature. It works in subtle and mysterious ways."

"So you can't turn people into newts?" Dean's pretty sure she won't get the reference.

Carlie laughs. "I don't weigh the same as a duck," she says, and Dean's impressed. "No, magick has its limits. It's powerful, but it can't make the impossible happen."

"So you couldn't, say, turn a guy into a girl?"

Carlie drops her fork. She stares at Dean in disbelief. "You."

"You better believe it, sweetheart. Fun's over. Time to turn me back."

Her eyes narrow. "You killed Amy."

"That monster wasn't Amy. Amy wouldn't hurt anybody."

Carlie looks away, tears springing to her eyes. "I know," she whispers. "But it's still hard."

Dean nods. "I'm sorry about Amy. But that's no excuse for what you did to me."

"You're lucky the spell backfired. You wouldn't be sitting here otherwise."

Dean's eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"The spell was supposed to put your soul in Amy's body, so you would be killed when she died. But at the last minute, I couldn't go through with it. The magickal power got released anyway, and you know the rest."

"So can you turn me back or not?"

"Yeah, I can," Carlie answers.

"Can you do it tonight?"

"Yeah." She reaches in her purse and pulls out a piece of paper. She writes something down and hands it to Dean.

Dean looks at it. It's her address.

"Quarter to midnight tonight. Knock three times." She gets up. "I've got to go prepare. See you later."

Dean takes his tray to the dish room and goes downstairs to find Sam.

"So, what did you find out?" Sam asks.

"Bitch tried to kill me," Dean replies.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. But she chickened out, thank God. She wants me at her house at 11:45 tonight to turn me back."

"Great." Sam stands up. "I guess we should get a motel room."

"Okay," agrees Dean.

They leave the student union and head back to the Impala.

xOxOxOx

Dean walks up the stairs to the weatherbeaten front porch. There's an ornate brass knocker on the door to Carlie's apartment. She knocks three times and stands back.

Carlie answers the door. "Come in."

Dean follows Carlie through the apartment and out to the backyard. The area is illuminated by colored lanterns strung between the trees. In the middle of the yard is a fire bowl with an iron bar over it. A pewter cauldron hangs from the iron bar. There's a picnic table under one of the trees with magickal supplies piled on it. Carlie walks over to the table and picks up a pair of scissors.

She hands the scissors to Dean. "I need a lock of your hair."

Dean nods and cuts the hank of hair that's always falling in her face. She's kind of going to miss that, strangely enough. She hands the hair to Carlie. Carlie walks over and places it on the table. She picks up a box of matches and a bottle of lighter fluid and lights a fire in the fire bowl. The flames lick at the bottom of the cauldron.

Carlie fills a wicker basket with the supplies she'll need for the spell. Salt, holy water, angelica, and sandalwood are the ingredients Dean recognizes. There are also some small bottles that likely contain oil and what looks like powdered incense. She then picks up her wand and a wooden spoon.

She stands about a yard from the fire bowl and starts casting the magick circle. Dean can feel a slight humming when she passes by. Carlie closes the circle and pockets her wand. She pours holy water and salt into the cauldron and then adds the powdered incense and angelica. The scents mingle in the cool night air. Carlie anoints the sandalwood with the two oils and drops that in. Lastly she adds the lock of Dean's hair. Blue smoke rises from the cauldron and dissipates. Carlie stirs the mixture and recites a complicated incantation. She waves her wand--

--and that's the last thing Dean sees.

Dean awakens to find the flames extinguished. Carlie hands him a hand mirror. He takes a deep breath and holds it up to his face.

_His _face.

Thank fucking God.

He lets out a sigh of relief and hands the mirror back to Carlie. "Thanks," he says.

Carlie nods. "I'm sorry."

Dean shrugs. "Water under the bridge."

Carlie walks Dean back through the apartment. "Good luck," she says softly.

When Dean exits the front door, Sam is leaning against the Impala's passenger-side door. "Good to see you, man," he says with a grin.

"Good to be back," Dean replies.

They climb in the car and prepare to leave Wisconsin far, far behind. Dean gets behind the wheel and smiles when he realizes he doesn't have to push the seat forward. He puts _...And Justice For All_ in the tape deck and rolls down the window. All is right with the world.

Although he does kind of miss the tits.


End file.
